


Stitched together with good intentions

by RedWritingHood



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Good Brother Klaus Hargreeves, Good Brother Luther Hargreeves, Good Sister Vanya Hargreeves, Gratuitous use of italics, ben is there but he's invisible, body issues, he just wants them to be happy and safe, it's luther what do you expect, luther loves his family, nice going klaus, whoops now they think ben is a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWritingHood/pseuds/RedWritingHood
Summary: In which Luther unintentionally saves the world by loving his family.





	Stitched together with good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> "I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions."  
\- Augusten Burroughs

<strike></strike>Klaus is high at their father's funeral.

Klaus is high, and small, and loud, and thin, and wouldn't be able to defend himself from anything stronger than a stiff breeze if he tried.

Wouldn't be able to defend himself from a threat to his life if he needed to.

He's not powerless, not weak; their father made sure of that. Logically, Luther knows this.

But he looks at Klaus, looks at his curly hair, and his big eyes, and his flyaway smile, and he can't see it. Klaus is lanky. Lanky and tiny, like a malnourished kitten. Like something to be protected.

Luther has spent the last four years in isolation, and when he came home, he found that everyone is so much smaller than he's used to, and he is so much bigger than he should be.

He feels like he could hold them all like valuable jewels. As if he could cradle them in the palms of his hands and keep them close to his chest. Close to his heart.

People die easily. That's what Luther has learned, after a lifetime of fighting and violent situations. All it takes is a single hit, a little push. All it takes is one enemy, one mistake, one burst of anger.

And Klaus is so very good at making people angry.

They already lost Ben and Five, and now Dad. Luther doesn't... have a lot in this world. But he has his family.

And he doesn't think that he could bear to lose any more of them.

* * *

Luther finds Klaus lounging in the living room, sprawled across the couch like a lethargic cat. His skirt has tangled around his legs, but he doesn't seem to care. It makes Luther itch, though. He's been caught in his blanket while sleeping more than once. He doesn't know how Klaus can stand it.

He reaches down to tap the arch of Klaus's ankle. "Hey," he says. "How long are you staying?"

Klaus raises an eyebrow. "Eager to get rid of me, darling brother? And so soon? I'm hurt." He splays a hand dramatically over his heart. "Dear old Dad has taught you well."

"That's not it," Luther says, stiffly. "I just wanted to know when you're leaving."

Klaus waves his hand. "And deprive you of the pleasure--nay, the delight--of my presence? I could _never_."

Luther looks at him for a moment. "Okay," he says, finally. "But let me know before you go anywhere, alright? I'll... I'll drive you, or something. Don't go alone."

Klaus blinks, caught off guard. "Why, Luther... I could almost think you care."

Luther looks down at him, his brows coming together.

It's not hard to imagine hollow bones beneath Klaus's pale skin. Hollow bones like a bird, and blood in his dark, curly hair.

It's not hard to imagine, because Luther has seen what it looks like when someone is dying. He saw it when they were kids, super-powered children fighting panicking adults who wouldn't hesitate to kill them. He saw it later, after everyone had left, when Luther was running missions on his own and more than one enemy wound up on the ground, crimson spreading out from beneath their heads like spilt paint.

He doesn't want to see it on Klaus.

"I don't want you hurt," Luther says, after a moment.

Klaus bats his eyelashes at him. "Worried for your dear, beloved brother?" he suggests, as if it isn't true.

As if Luther hasn't spent countless nights lying awake in bed, wondering what his siblings were doing. If they were alright. If they needed help. If they were happy or hurting. If they missed him.

If they missed him as much as he did them.

"Of course," Luther says, firmly, and with more emotion than he means to.

He catches the widening of Klaus's eyes, and is abruptly, horribly embarrassed. Klaus doesn't know what he's thinking. Probably doesn't care what he's thinking. He just knows that the dumb, awkward brother that he hasn't seen in forever is over here bothering him.

"Just tell me when you're leaving," Luther adds, shortly, and leaves before Klaus can tell him that he's not needed anymore.

* * *

"Isn't it obvious, Klaus?" Diego murmurs, stepping closer to him. "He thinks one of us killed Dad."

Luther makes a low sound of denial, looking away. He's interrupted before he can respond.

"You do?" Klaus breathes out, almost a gasp.

"How could you think that?" Vanya asks, her brow furrowing. She looks small, and sad.

Luther looks at their faces, his voice catching before the words can even form. He hadn't truly believed it, but there had been a tiny part of him that sounded like Dad, saying _"Trust no one."_

The betrayal that he sees now makes him feel ashamed. It closes around his throat, burning in his chest.

"Great job, Luther," Diego says, barely glancing at him as he moves toward the door. "Way to lead."

"That's not what I'm saying," Luther says, softly, but he's quickly cut off.

"You're crazy, man," Klaus accuses, pushing himself off the couch to follow Diego out. "You're crazy." He shakes his head. "Crazy."

Out of options, watching his siblings turn their backs on him, Luther calls, "I've not finished."

"Okay, well, sorry, I'm just gonna go murder Mom, I'll be right back," Klaus calls back.

"That's not what I was saying, I didn't--" Luther stops, letting out a breath. He tries to relax enough to unclench his fists, trying not to feel like he's failed.

He looks up as Allison walks out the door. "Allison," he says, his hand lifting. She doesn't look back. "I-- jeez." He drops his hand, looking down. His lips press together. "That went well."

He stands there for a moment longer in the silence, then sighs and follows his siblings out.

* * *

Luther stares down at the dark pile of their father's ashes as it quickly soaks up the rain.

He thinks, _Could this day get any worse?_

But then he reminds himself, Five is back. That automatically makes it a better day than usual. Or at least, it should...

They'll work on it.

He looks up at his familly and says, "Probably would've been better with some wind," and then regrets it when he sees the expressions on their faces.

Fortunately, Pogo's voice breaks the silence before it can go on for too long. "Does anyone wish to speak?"

Unfortunately, the ensuing silence is just as awkward as the last.

Pogo sighs, as if their nonresponsiveness weighs on his soul. "Very well." He looks up and begins, "In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall be forever in his debt. He was my master... and my friend. And I shall miss him very much."

Luther swallows, keeping his gaze on the ground. Struggling to keep his breathing even.

"He leaves behind a complicated legacy--"

"He was a monster," Diego interrupts.

Luther looks up as Klaus laughs, wheezing a bit.

"He was a bad person and a worse father," their brother continues. "The world's better off without him."

"Diego," Allison finally cuts him off, but that's not the end.

"My name," he says sharply, "is _Number Two_. You know why? Because our _father_ couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had _Mom_ do it."

"Would anyone like something to eat?" Grace asks, jarring in the tension-filled air. Her voice is delicate, her smile almost fragile.

"No, it's okay, Mom," Vanya says, gently.

"Oh," Grace says, her smile fading for a moment, before it comes back stronger. She nods, briefly. "Okay."

Diego doesn't look at her, just moves forward. "Look, you wanna pay your respects?" He turns to face their family. "Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was."

"You should stop talking now," Luther says, quietly.

Diego looks at him for a second. He takes a step closer. "You know, you of all people should should be on my side here, _Number One_."

"I am warning you," Luther begins.

"After everything he did to you?" Diego says. "He had to ship you _a million miles away_\--"

"Diego. Stop. Talking," Luther says, through clenched teeth. The burning in his chest is choking him, and he can feel his hands starting to tremble.

Diego steps closer still. He jabs Luther in the chest, his voice coming out loud and harsh. "--that's how much he couldn't stand the _sight_ _of you!_"

Something in Luther breaks, and he pushes Diego's hand away from him, throwing a punch that Diego ducks under, and then another that doesn't even graze him.

"Boys!" Pogo says, raising his voice. "Stop this at once!"

Diego stumbles back and shouts, "Come on, big boy!"

Luther can feel the air rushing in and out of his lungs, can feel the roil of emotions surging through his veins. Fighting is _different_ in this body. He's too big, too slow, too unpracticed, and at this moment, it's _too much._

He throws another punch, feels Diego strike back, and then again, and again. He manages to grab Diego's coat and throw him a few feet away.

He can't hear anything but the blows ringing in his ears, can't think of anything except that Diego is _right_.

But he doesn't want that, so he keeps fighting, and the next thing that his fist connects with is his dead brother's statue.

His blood freezes over when the head cracks off as it hits the ground.

The air burns Luther's lungs now. Burns his throat. Burns his eyes. He takes in a shaky breath and turns back to Diego, stepping towards him as his brother takes a knife from inside his coat and throws it, slicing a cut straight through Luther's arm.

It's like someone just poured ice-cold water down his spine, jolting him awake.

A gasp rips itself out of his throat, and he reflexively covers the wound with one hand. He's bleeding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except one thing.

_Did they see?_ He thinks, fear replacing his anger. Did they see him? Do they know?

He keeps his arm covered and moves with swift steps towards the door leading back inside, not daring to look at any of his siblings as he does.

He's afraid that if he did, then--

He's afraid.

* * *

Just as Luther is watching Diego's car leave the driveway, there's a knock at his door.

He lets go of the drapes and quickly grabs his coat again, shrugging it on before he calls gruffly, "Come in."

It's Klaus.

His brother leans against the doorway as if it's all that's keeping him upright, his pink umbrella trailing water on the floor.

"Klaus," Luther says. He puts his hand over his arm again, feeling too vulnerable to leave it alone. "Why are you here?"

Klaus waves his hand. "Just following orders, oh Captain, my Captain. I wanted to let you know that I'm ready for my next voyage. My ship is ready to sail. The sirens are calling my name." He pauses, glancing at Luther's unamused face. He amends, "I'm hungry. Take me somewhere."

Luther almost says no, but then he looks at the tiredness on Klaus's face, the faint tremble in his fingertips, and what he hears himself say instead is, "Yeah, sure. Just... give me a minute alone and we'll leave."

Klaus claps his hands together. "_Merci beaucoup, _brother. Don't keep us waiting, I'm _starved_."

Involuntarily, Luther feels his mouth soften, feels the corner of it quirk upwards, if a bit halfheartedly. "I'll be quick."

"Good," Klaus chirps, and pushes himself off the doorway to leave, pulling the door shut behind him.

After a moment of waiting for the sound of Klaus's footsteps to fade, Luther lets out a breath. He removes his coat and touches the wound, gently.

His mouth twists. "We'll work on it," he says, aloud.

Even if he's starting to think that some things can't be fixed.

* * *

"Where's everyone else?" Luther asks, grabbing his keys from the hook near the door, Klaus following closely behind.

"Five said he was getting coffee, Diego's off doing... whatever Diego does. Probably amateur BDSM. Allison's doing something, I don't know." Klaus shrugs.

Luther frowns, holding the door open for Klaus. "What about Vanya?"

Klaus steps out, heading towards the van parked in the driveway as Luther shuts the door behind him. "She left. Guess the family reunion was too much for her. All those emotions, you know. The tears, the joy. Who can blame her?"

"Yeah," Luther mumbles. He reaches the driver's side and unlocks the van, sliding into the seat while Klaus takes shotgun.

Klaus slaps his hand on the dashboard. "So," he announces, "while you were off taking your private time, we decided on _waffles_. My first instinct was eggs, but everyone knows only psychos order breakfast at night."

"Can you not call it that?" Luther asks. He starts the van, then pauses, frowning down at the steering wheel. "Hey," he says, looking over at Klaus. "Do you think we should invite Vanya?"

Klaus raises an eyebrow. "Really? You don't care about what she said in her book? Diego almost set her on fire with the strength of his glare alone."

"I didn't read it," Luther says. "But it doesn't matter. I think we need to come together again. Find out who killed Dad. Figure out what's going on with Five. We're the only ones who can do that."

"Is that why you wanted me to go with you?" Klaus asks. "To try and summon Dad again?" He's smiling, but it's small, almost a grimace, and there's something like disappointment in his eyes. His hands are clasped tight from where they lay folded in his lap.

Luther's stomach twists. "No," he says. "That's not it. I just... wanted you to be safe. I thought--" he stops, looks away. His gaze is drawn to his own hands. They're not like Klaus's. They're large, and odd, like the hands of a stranger. They don't look at all like they did before the serum. They're different. _He's_ different.

He's messing it all up.

When he speaks again, he keeps his eyes on his gloves. "I wanted us to be a family again. I know that everything fell apart after Five, after... after Ben. I know that we got caught up in our own things, and we kind of stopped looking after each other. I know it hasn't been easy. But I think that if we try, if we really _try_... it'll get better." He lifts his head, meets Klaus's gaze. "It has to get better. Doesn't it?"

Klaus is looking at him with an expression that Luther can't define. "Yeah," he says, finally. "Yeah, I guess you're right. And you want... what, you want to look after me? After us?"

"Of course," Luther says. "You're family, aren't you?"

Klaus releases a little laugh. "Right, right." He sits back, leaning against the door. He's smiling at Luther. There's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before when he says, "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go get ourselves a little sister."

* * *

Luther knocks on the door. He's trying not to think about what a mistake this might be when it opens.

"Oh," Vanya says, startled. "Luther, you're... you're here."

"Yes," he says, as if he wasn't practicing what to say for half of the ride there. As if he hadnt forgotten an entire speech the moment he saw her face.

"Okay," his sister says, nonplussed. Awkward.

Almost as awkward as Luther. The difference is that it looks better on her.

"Did you... want something?" she asks. She glances behind her, holds the door open a little wider. Shifts on her feet like they don't quite fit her, and gestures into her apartment. "Do you, um... do you want to come in?"

"Am I interrupting?" Luther asks. He's incredibly self-conscious of his size, his too-big hands and his too-broad shoulders, and how small his sister is in comparison.

Smaller than Five, he thinks, and is almost surprised to realize that it's true.

How lumbering he must seem in comparison. How looming and unwieldy, like a bull in a China shop, but worse.

_A gorilla in a China shop_, he thinks. It should be funny, but it's not. It's a bitter sort of humor. Bitter and unhappy.

His hands go to the zipper of his jacket, as if to make sure it hasn't come open, revealing that he's changed, that his body is someone else's entirely.

He's aware that his ears are burning. He's both grateful and ashamed when Vanya doesn't appear to notice.

He'd thought it would go better than this. Klaus had certainly seemed to believe it would.

"It's okay," Vanya says, quickly, "I was just practicing. I practice every day. Like always." She stops, staring at him. There's a noticeable pause. Eventually, she asks, "Is everything okay? Do you... need me for something?"

It's that word again. _Need_. Luther hasn't been needed for years. Not in a way that matters. He used to think that Dad needed him, but he's had a lot of time with nothing to do but think, and he's started to wonder if he ever really did. If maybe Dad just sent him on those missions not because Luther was the only one who could do them, but because there was nothing else he could do.

_I'm obsolete_, Luther thinks, but what he says is: "Actually. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to join me and Klaus for some food. And... maybe you could show me around the city again. If you want to. If it's not too much trouble."

"Oh!" Vanya says, and she looks surprised again, but after a moment, she begins to smile at him. Shyly, uncertainty. Like a flower blooming after snowfall. "Sure. I mean, if that's... is everyone else busy? Not, not that I'm complaining. I just... figured I wasn't your first choice."

"You are," Luther denies, quickly. "You were. I thought... you'd know the best places to visit. It's been a while, you know? Since I've been back. I just... you have good taste." He stops, feeling lame.

He thinks, _You're messing up again, Number One._ He says, "Sorry. Sorry, I-- that's not the real reason I'm here. I actually just want to spend some time with you. It doesn't have to be for food, or for a tour. It doesn't have to be right this second. You're my sister-- _our_ sister. I want to get to know you again, whether it's now or later." He shifts on his feet, self-consciously. His shoulders are hunched. "...If we haven't scared you off, that is."

There's silence. After a moment, he looks up to see her reaction, and finds her looking at him as if she's never seen him before.

"...Really?" Vanya says, searching his face. "Do you mean that?"

His stomach twists at her uncertainty. "Of course, Vanya. Of course I do." There are so many things that he wants to say, but in the end, he just ends up confessing, quietly, "I've... I've missed you, Vanya."

Her posture relaxes as if a weight has been lifted. "Oh," she says. Softly, with a gentle light in her eyes. "Okay. I missed you, too."

They stand there for a minute, looking at each other, and it's only the sound of a car honking outside that breaks the silence.

Vanya jumps, and takes a step back. "I-I'll get my purse," she says, flustered. "Let me just..." She darts back inside, and reappears a second later. She closes and locks the door behind her, and looks up at Luther. "I'm ready," she says. She's smiling.

Luther smiles back. "Klaus is in the car," he says. "He already called shotgun, but I think we can make an exception for you."

"Thank you," Vanya says, sincerely. There's a heaviness behind it, a gratitude for more than just the front seat.

"Any time," Luther says, and means it.

* * *

The bell chimes as Klaus saunters into the diner and slips into a nearby booth.

Luther holds the door open for Vanya, following behind her once she's inside. He slides into the booth next to Klaus, Vanya taking the seat across from them.

The waitress appears in front of their table, smiling as she hands them their menus. "Can I start you off with anything?"

"You can," Klaus chirps. "Two blueberry waffles, extra butter. All of the syrup."

"I'll have coffee," Luther says. "No cream."

"Hot tea for me, please," Vanya says, smiling back at the waitress. "Lemon and honey on the side."

A minute later, the waitress excuses herself, leaving them to their own devices.

"_So_." Klaus sits forward, leaning his elbows on the table, chin resting on top of his linked fingers. "Let's hear that hot office gossip, Vanya, dear. Anyone meaningful in your life? A boyfriend? Girlfriend? Arch-nemesis? A coworker with whom you share longing glances and sizzling sexual tension?"

Vanya blushes. "N-no, none of those." She manages a tiny smile, fiddling with her fingers. "I'm... pretty boring, really. I'm a third string violin player. I mostly just practice, and... that's it. Nothing exciting, not like Allison, or Diego."

"Diego walks around looking like a dominatrix with a side-hobby as a second-rate Batman," Klaus says, solemnly. "Diego doesn't count."

Luther feels his lips twitch, and watches Vanya cover the small laugh that escapes her mouth.

"What about you, Klaus?" Vanya offers, her smile more genuine now. "Anyone special in your life?"

"Well," Klaus begins, dramatically. "There is one person. He's dark, handsome... always wearing a hoodie... never leaves me alone... nags like he thinks he's my mother... a real jerk, really."

Vanya leans forward, suddenly worried. "Klaus, is someone bothering you?"

Klaus snorts. "Oh, yeah. All the time."

Vanya and Luther share concerned glances.

"Klaus," Luther starts, "you know if you ever have a problem, or... feel like you're in danger, you can come to us, right?"

Klaus looks back at them, bemused. "Sure...?"

"I mean it," Luther insists. "If you ever need anything, anything at all--a ride, a place to stay--we'll help you. It doesn't matter if we're busy or halfway across the world, we'll be there. You got it?"

"Y-yeah," Klaus says, startled. Soft. Eyes wide, like Luther just told his brother that he'd won the lottery instead of that he'd keep him safe. "Yeah, I got it."

Luther eases back, embarrassment beginning to seep in at the intensity that they'd all heard in his voice. "I just-- wanted you to know," he mutters. His gaze meets Vanya's. "That goes for you, too. Call me if you're in trouble. Or if you're not," he adds, before he can think better of it. "It doesn't have to be a crisis. It can be... insomnia, or-- bad dreams. Transportation issues. A leaky faucet." His mouth quirks. "Annoying siblings."

"He's not talking about me, right?" Klaus whispers out of the corner of his mouth, his gaze flickering to the empty space beside Vanya. There's a short pause, and then he hisses, "_Traitor_."

"He might've meant Diego," Vanya offers up.

"I did," Luther says. "Mostly."

Klaus pauses a moment, then shrugs. "I'll take it."

Before Luther can say anything more, the waitress arrives back at their table, placing their drinks in front of them. "Your waffles are on their way," she tells Klaus, kindly.

"You're an angel," he says, gazing deeply into her eyes.

"I get that a lot," she says, and excuses herself from their company again. By the time she gets back, carrying a plate of waffles, Klaus has already helped himself to Luther's coffee, which he quickly returns to him in favor of drowning his dinner in butter and maple syrup.

"Thanks," Luther says, dryly, as he takes his coffee back from his brother's clutches.

"No problemo," Klaus says, around a mouthful of waffle.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Klaus scrunched up his nose. "Mother-henning in stereo," he mutters, and then doesn't bother to explain.

Luther gets through half of his coffee before Klaus takes it back from him.

Vanya gives Luther a sympathetic glance. "You can try my tea, if you want?" she offers.

Luther hesitates, then reaches out to try a drink of it. "That's pretty good," he says, surprised.

Vanya smiles. "You did say I have good taste."

"I did," he agrees. He takes one more drink and then hands it back to her. "Thanks."

"Thanks for inviting me," she says. Her fingertips touch his for a moment, as if to emphasize her gratitude, before retreating again.

"This is nice," Klaus sighs. He's leaning into Luther's arm now, stealing sips of coffee in between bites of food.

"It is nice," Vanya agrees. She cradles her cup of hot tea in her palms. There's a warmth in her expression that Luther wants to keep, like something priceless and beautiful.

After four years of watching sunlight wash over a vibrant green and blue Earth, of watching a blinding sun illuminate the world in rays of pure white and gold, Luther thinks he can probably make an informed opinion on what beauty is.

And right now, beauty is his sister's smile.

"I hope we get to do this again," Vanya says.

"We will," Luther assures her. He would move Heaven and Earth to make it possible.

But he doesn't have to. And neither do they.

"I'm glad to be home," Luther says, with a quiet rush of emotion that would mortify him if he stopped to think about it.

Vanya reaches out to cover his large hand with her much smaller one. "I'm glad, too," she tells him. The look in her eyes says it's the truth.

Klaus raises Luther's cup in the air. "To new beginnings, and coming home." He clinks it against Vanya's, and then sets it down to steal a sip of her tea. He sinks back into the side of Luther's body.

There's trust in the lines of his form, in the weight of his head on Luther's shoulder.

And now, after four years of complete and utter solitude on the moon, of voiceless sounds and cold, clinical sensations, of lonely days and even lonelier nights, of a homesickness which spanned from weeks to months to _longer_, it's almost overwhelming. It's almost too much, it's very nearly not enough.

It's the most perfect thing that Luther has experienced in ages.

"Alright," Klaus, says, sitting up. He slaps a hand against the table. "Who's in the mood for some donuts?"

It only gets better from here, Luther thinks.

* * *

"_Why are these people trying to kill us?!_" Klaus yells.

"I'll tell you later," Five shouts back, before jumping beside one of a gunmen and striking his arm in just the right place to send a streak of bullets into his cohorts.

"Klaus, Vanya!" Luther barks. "Stay behind me!" With that, he hurls a table into a group of hitmen, sending them to the ground.

"No arguments here!" Klaus shouts, a touch hysterically.

Pain sears Luther's shoulder a minute later, the familiar burn of a bullet puncturing flesh. He grunts, but it only makes him push back harder.

Behind him, he hears a scream of "_That's my brother you're shooting, dickwads!_" followed closely by the sound of a chair colliding with a human body.

"Klaus!" He yells. "_What did I say?!_"

"Something very bossy, I'm sure!" Klaus calls back. A voice that is unmistakably Vanya's speaks up, almost drowned out by the sounds of battle: "I've got another one, move over."

Luther makes a noise of frustration and fury, using the burst of anger to grab a too-close gunman and send him flying into some of his friends. Adrenaline burns in his veins, but the fight doesn't last long enough to make it count.

In the end, he's left with scattered piles of broken bodies, three siblings with a minimal sense of self-preservation shared between them, and a destroyed donut shop.

Luther turns to stare down Five. He says, through gritted teeth, "Explain."

There's a pause.

"It's a long story," Five says.

Luther's lips press into a thin line. "Then shorten it."

Five looks up at him. Luther notices, despite himself, how young he looks. How his hair is mussed, and his uniform is dirty, and his eyes have circles under them, as if he hasn't slept in days. How his fingers tap his leg, just like they used to when he was thinking. How small he is.

How he meets Luther's eyes, the way that he always does when he's about to lie.

"Lets go home," Luther says, abruptly.

Klaus, lounging against the bullet-riddled counter, makes a sound of profound agreement. "I don't know about you guys, but Mama needs a _drink_."

"I don't drink on medication, but I could go for a cup of coffee right now," Vanya says. She glances at Five, smiles tentatively. "And... maybe a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich?"

Five has never been able to resist the hope in Vanya's eyes. Evidently, forty-five years hasn't changed that.

His mouth twists. "It's...not the worst plan I've ever heard."

Vanya lights up. Her smile is brighter than the rising sun, and she glances at Luther, as if to share this victory with him.

He feels the tension desert him, his shoulders relaxing. Feels his mouth shape a return of Vanya's happiness.

Klaus claps his hands together. "Another family meeting! Who's telling our stabbiest brother about it?"

"I'm right here," Five says.

"I said stabbiest, not shortest," Klaus says. He reaches out to try and pat Five's head. "Or _cutest_."

Luther snatches away the knife that spontaneously appears in Five's hand. "I'll call Diego," he says. "Vanya can call Allison, and we can all calm down. Is that agreeable to everyone?"

Klaus gives him a haphazard salute. "You're the boss, _mon Capitan_."

"Are you going to tell Diego that I'll be there?" Vanya asks, quietly.

"You're our sister," Luther says. "You're one of us. You don't have to prove that you belong."

"Oh," Vanya says. "Okay." She looks down at her shoes, but Luther can see the hint of a smile.

Five gives him a considering look, as if he's done something that deserves analyzing.

"Dibs on shotgun," Klaus says.

"I'm taking shotgun," Five says, and that is that.

* * *

"What the _hell_, Five! You don't just pull a knife out of nowhere!"

"It wasn't nowhere. I had it in my jacket."

"It's a blazer, but that doesn't answer the question of why you're waving a knife around in the car."

"I'm being tracked. I'm getting the tracker out. Hence, the knife. Now shut up and let me work."

"What wor-- _Five no why would you STAB yourself no stop what the fuck_\--"

* * *

"Stop moving! You're messing it up!"

"You're too _slow_. Just give me the needle, I'll do it myself."

"I'm not letting you _stitch yourself up_, Five, what the fuck."

"I don't see why not. You're doing a shit job anyway."

"I am doing my _best_\--"

"Yeah? Your best is shit."

"Listen, just because Vanya has delicate little swan hands--"

"Swans don't have hands, you _colossal moron._"

"Five. Klaus. Stop. _Please_."

* * *

"Are you okay?" Vanya asks, quietly.

Luther lifts his head from the steering wheel to look down at her. "As well as I can be, I guess. What about you?"

She gives a small shrug. "Not too bad, considering we just escaped from a shoot-out and our long-lost brother used a stolen knife to cut out a tracking device from his own arm." An almost imperceptible shudder went through her frame. "It sounds even worse out loud."

"If it helps," Luther says, "I think you're dealing with it better than me. Definitely better than Klaus." He nudges her as gently as he can. "When did my sister get so grown-up, huh?"

She smiles, though it's somewhat muted. "I guess you weren't paying attention."

Luther dips his head. "...That's fair. I'm paying attention now," he says, and his fingers touch hers softly. "I might not have the right to say this, but... I'm proud of you, Vanya. I really am."

Her smile becomes more real, her eyes shining like sunlight striking diamond. "Thanks, Luther," she says, turning her hand over to curl it around his. "I... I think I'm proud of me, too."

* * *

"Are you kidding me," Diego says, flatly. "What's she doing here?"

"Diego," Allison sighs.

"This is a family meeting," Luther says. "Vanya is family."

"Yeah, Diego, don't be a jerk," Klaus agrees. "Just because you look like a clown doesn't mean you need to act like one."

"This from a guy in a pink feather boa and raccoon eye shadow," Diego says.

Klaus scoffs. "It's not my fault you don't recognize high-end _fashion_ when you see it."

Allison frowns at his feather boa, as if seeing it around his neck for the first time. "Did you take that from my room?"

"Guys," Luther says, forcefully, "_this isn't the time_. We were attacked tonight, and they were after Five."

The mood in the room instantly shifts.

"_What?_" Allison looks at Five with wide eyes. "Oh my god, what happened? Is anyone hurt?"

"We're fine," Five says, dismissively. "We took them down. It's not like it was hard. But they'll be sending others. We need to be ready when they do."

"Who will be sending others?" Diego says, sharply, his gaze focused on their brother.

Five's mouth twists into a scowl. "_The Commission_. Bastards. They didn't waste any time sending agents after my head."

Diego takes in a breath, presumably taking hold of his patience at the same time. "And who," he says, through gritted teeth, "is the Commission?"

"Temporal assassins," Five says. "Hitmen with the sole purpose of keeping the timeline intact." His lips shape a smile, but his eyes are grim. "My former employers."

There's a moment of silence.

Klaus is the first to break it. "Now, hold on; I thought you said you were trapped in the apocalypse. What was it, forty-five years? How was there even anyone still around to employ you?"

Five scoffs. "Shouldn't it be obvious? Their headquarters exist outside of time. How else would they have survived?"

"Buddy," Klaus says. "Buckaroo. Little bro. The only person it's obvious to is you. Some of us only have a couple of brain cells, and I'm sharing mine." His gaze flicks to the side for a second, and he amends, "Right, sorry, _borrowing_. I'm borrowing mine."

Diego keeps his gaze on Five. "What do they want with you? Why are they trying to kill you?"

Five makes a noise. "You can't be this stupid. The answer is right in front of you. I'm here to change the timeline and they're here to stop me."

"But wouldn't they want to, you know, _prevent_ the apocalypse?" Klaus asks.

"That's not their job," Five says, curtly. Impatience colors his tone. "Their job is to protect the timeline, not the world. Why do you think I needed to go rogue in the first place? Their lack of health insurance? Don't be an idiot."

Klaus shrugs, says, "It goes against my natural instincts, but for you, dear brother, I'll try."

"What happens if we do manage to stop the apocalypse?" Luther asks. "Do they just let us go?"

"Don't be _naive_, Number One," Five snaps. "This isn't a fairy tale; they'd hunt us down like dogs and execute us then and there." He crosses his arms, tapping his fingers. "I would be first, of course. I'm clearly the largest threat. Maybe the Handler would even deign to do it herself." He grimaces, mutters, "I just bet she'd enjoy that."

"The Handler?" Vanya repeats, speaking up for the first time since they entered the house.

"She's the one who recruited me," Five says. "She's powerful. Ruthless. Would rather watch you burn than put out the fire." He pauses. Then he adds, begrudgingly, "The holiday bonuses weren't too bad."

Allison purses her lips. "So even if we change the future, we'll still be in danger."

Five looks at her sharply. "Better in danger than dead."

"Good point," Klaus says. "Everyone in favor of saving the world, say _aye_."

"Aye," Luther says, immediately, and Vanya echoes him.

"I'm not saying that," Diego says. He rolls back his shoulders. "I'm in."

"Me, too," Allison says, firmly. "If I can keep my daughter safe, then... I'll do anything."

They all look at Five. He raises an eyebrow. "What? This is what I've been trying to do the entire time. You morons have been acting like chickens with their heads cut off and I'm the only one who's actually gotten anything _done_."

"We should have a team name," Klaus says. "Armageddon't. Wait, no. What if we sing in harmony every time we make plans? _The Acappacalypse_."

"Klaus," Diego says, evenly, "don't take this the wrong way, but go stick your head in a blender until I can stand to look at you again."

"I don't know how anyone could possibly take that the wrong way," Klaus says.

"It's been five seconds and I'm already regretting this," Five says.

Klaus reaches out to ruffle his hair, remaining unfazed when Five slaps his hand away. "That's how you know you're doing it right."

"That explains so much about you," Diego says. "So much."

Luther feels someone lean in to him, and he glances down to see Vanya at his side. He ducks his head to better hear her voice.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" She whispers to him, watching their siblings bicker and insult each other.

Luther shrugs. "If anyone can stop the end of the world, it'll be us."

Vanya gives him a small smile. "Maybe we can all get coffee afterwards."

Luther's lips quirk slightly. "We'll need to survive more than the apocalypse for that to happen."

They both watch Allison attempting to stop Diego from strangling Klaus with his own feather boa. Five has a drink in his hand--who knows where he got it from--as if watching a movie instead of attempted murder.

"I think we can do it," Vanya says. "I think we can do anything together."

Luther looks down at her. She's like a little bird next him, small and delicate.

But her bones aren't hollow, and she's not as fragile as she seems. She's stronger. Stronger than any of them knew, he thinks.

He holds out his hand. "Together?" He offers.

Vanya takes it, smiling at him. "Together," she agrees.

"We're not Bob the Builder, but can we do it?" Klaus yells. "_Yes we can!__"_

"Shut up!" Diego yells back. "Bob the Builder can _eat my__ entire ass!_"

"Maybe we should get that coffee now sooner than later," Luther says.

"That's a good idea," Vanya says gratefully, and they slide out of the room to find Grace. The sounds of fighting follow them out.

This, he admits to himself, might be harder than he anticipated.

He thinks he might be looking forward to it.


End file.
